I guess I wanted to explain some of the references in my last post in a little more detail.
One: Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality is a really good fanfiction. It takes a single point of divergence, monkeys with some of the cast and turns a children's fantasy that works well for adults into a full blown epic adult-themed novella-y thing. It's a bit of a 'down' story, very much in minor keys, but it is well written for the most part. I even managed to overlook the parts where the author patently does not understand the UK or the UK schooling system. For me to avoid getting angry about such things is remarkable, I can't watch anything on the First World War at all without getting my geek on and essentially ruining the piece for anyone else in earshot. This means that the fiction is good. You should read it.
Two: My wife and drinking. Over the recent break Tilly took to wine again, she hasn't drunk since our boy was born, and it was good to see her back. We watched the Buffy musical episode and then went straight onto Jesus Christ Superstar, the 2000 edition, and watched that. During this time Tilly got rather badly tipsy and the conversation became her essentially randomly hitting tangents on aspects as diverse as musical variations on musical songs, the state of theology in education, the situation of society and she and I. She thanked me for 'saving her' from her old days of being an angsty student who identified with Whedon's world view but also went into depth on how our relationship was essentially doomed as I can't make the necessary changes to give myself some space etc. She also, before she got tipsy, explained how she wanted a third child.
|You'd think I'd be into Rose, what with|
my addiction and all, but no. I prefer
real ale. And I have a beard, how very
I was welcome, she said, to refuse a third child but I should be aware that she would end up under a train or slitting her wrists if that were my decision. She understood that I did not want a third child but explained that if I was to stick to that then I did not understand her own emotional attachment to the concept. If asked to choose, she would either walk away and have a third child with someone else or she would prefer to die. Bear in mind that this was before she started drinking and delivered in the same way one would relate an anecdote of meeting a friend whilst out for a walk. The last time we had a conversation anywhere near this one was following Tilly's miscarriage and before we got a pet chinchilla as a way of delaying having the two children we had agreed we would have.
As a footnote to that saga, I should point out that we got the pet and then managed to create our daughter early by accident anyway. Tilly was supposed to be on the pill but forgot (she went on because she said that condoms made her 'itchy') and so she ended up pregnant anyway. There were many conversations about how she was so in need of an infant that she would sooner die than delay. Talk of a third child surfaced close to the end of her pregnancy with our son.
Honestly, given the Hell of an experience that both of Tilly's pregnancies were (no intimacy due to 'sicky' feelings, constant negative mood swings, argumentativeness, criticism of everything I did, lack of sleep, increase in food costs generally, insults, physical problems, being relegated to sleeping on the sofa... wait, they're still there) I'm not sure I want her pregnant again. Both pregnancies were awful for me, and pretty bad for her too, so I'm not mad-keen to go back. Still, the alternative is suicide or being left alone so...
Four: Being dressed. I wore the dress from ASDA and the boots in ensemble. It was fantastic. I didn't mark in them, I was reading the fanfic from Point 1, but it was lovely. I can't really describe why it was that I felt so at home, I can only relate that I did feel completely at peace with myself.
Earlier in the break I wore the get up for myself and my son. He's coming up two and is non-verbal. If this is being a part of who I am then honesty dictates that my children ought to know. Interestingly he tried to take the boots off my feet, shaking his head the whole time, and was most perturbed by my dress. He didn't seem to know what to make of it all and grudgingly did his teeth with me, but his demeanour was enough to make me give up the enterprise after about six minutes (nothing like being precise). I found it intellectually interesting that his response was so strong and negative at such a young age without any conscious conditioning of clothing expectations by either my wife or I. He has no truck with Tilly wearing trousers, shirts, even some of my clothes but he gets most put out by me in a dress and boots. Maybe Tilly does have a point about male cross-dressing.
|Too much to ask? Too much to ask.|
Okay, I'm done.